


Baz's Willpower vs. Black Leggings

by Mrs_ZombieOctopus



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Completed, Fluff, I swear it totally didn't take me three months to write, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn over the course of 10k, Soft Boys, Song Inspired, Yoga, just a teensy eeny weeny bit of smut, only a small bit tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 18:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19068118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_ZombieOctopus/pseuds/Mrs_ZombieOctopus
Summary: Penny teaches Simon how to do yoga as a stress-reliever and Baz battles the terms of self-restraint in the face of Simon's black leggings.(Inspired by the song 'Yoga' by Janelle Monae)





	Baz's Willpower vs. Black Leggings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies!! It's me, the elusive, inactive bitch that sneaks out of the forest three times a year to post something and then slinks right back into the bog for another undetermined amount of time!!! 
> 
> Seriously tho, school has been seriously pushing me down and making me feel terrible so writing has been really really hard. Thank every single god that I only have about 4 weeks left. I would also like to thank my bestie tumblr friends and my irl bestie for encouraging me and supporting me!! I love ya Theo and Ashleigh and Sophia!!
> 
> And now . . . let's get to the fic!! Inspiration: [Yoga by Janelle Monae](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OkB6p_FZAw) (please go listen it's such a good song and the video is . . . HNG *fans self*)

**Simon**

Simon collapsed onto his chair one morning, raking his hands through his hair as he sat down to breakfast. He was completely knackered even though his day had only started ten bloody minutes ago. Yesterday had been a long day of lessons, followed by an even longer training session with the Mage, and it had taken Simon almost two hours to finally settle down and sleep last night.

Penny was already at breakfast with a piece of toast in one hand and a book in the other. She glanced over at him once he started to put heaping piles of food onto his plate and she sighed.

“Simon, your jacket is inside out.”

Simon looked down to see that the lining of his jacket was indeed on the outside. He grunted and slipped the jacket off, letting it fall to the ground in a crumpled heap as he continued filling his plate. He’d pick it up later.

Penny sighed again and put down her book, picking his jacket up and draping it over the arm of her chair.

“Simon, did you get any sleep last night? You look like you were hit by a bus.”

Simon grumbled, “Kinda wish I had been.”

Penny gave him a look.

“I did sleep last night, Penny. Just not that much. A couple hours, maybe.”

“Why, Simon? Did the Mage keep you up again?”

Simon reached for the sour cherry scones.

“I swear, that man has no bloody concern for your well-being; does he even realize you need sleep in order to function? In order to live? You’re not some superhuman he can jerk around and play with for hours on end. You’re a person, Simon, you need to rest.”

Simon really didn’t feel like arguing about this with her. He didn’t have the energy.

“It’s not his fault, Penny. I wasn’t trying hard enough so we had to work for longer. Don’t blame him. It’s not his problem that it took me awhile to finally calm down enough to sleep.”

“Simon, you know how I feel about the Mage. You’re not the one in the wrong here so please don’t think--”

“Penny, it’s fine just drop it.”

Simon was definitely too tired for this.

Penny looked at him warily but didn’t say anything else, and in a moment she picked up her fork and took a scoop of Simon’s eggs off his plate.

Simon pretended to growl and quickly jabbed his butter knife at Penny but she easily swatted him away and popped the fork into her mouth, her eyes glittering.

Simon narrowed his eyes.

“I should sue you.”

Penny snorted. “Yeah, you do that.”

Simon poked Penny with his butter knife and then slid his very crowded plate between them before grabbing his own fork and starting to shovel insanely large amounts food into his mouth.

After he was about two-thirds of the way in Penny spoke up again.

“Simon, do you do anything that’s ever . . . therapeutic or cathartic to you? Something that helps you relax?” Penny took another bite of his eggs. “I mean, I know you practice with your sword a lot but I feel like that just amps you up more than anything.”

Simon thought about it as he looked out at the busy Great Hall, every table bustling with large plates of warm breakfast food as the combined chatter from all of the students present filled the room.

Therapeutic, huh?

Simon wondered why Penny was asking. She probably had about a hundred reasons for it because she had about a hundred reasons for doing anything, but that didn’t mean she would ever tell Simon any of them, at least not until she got her answer.

And Simon was sure she didn’t even want to hear his answer.

Even though he had only punched Baz in the face once, that one time was the most therapeutic thing he had ever done in his life. The frozen hand part afterwards sucked arse but it was totally worth it.

Yeah, Penny definitely wouldn’t want to hear that.

Finally Simon responded, “Sour cherry scones are therapeutic. I always love getting distracted by those.” He then ended his sentiment by shoving an entire scone into his mouth.

Penny scowled and shook her head in disgust. “No, that’s not what I had in mind. Not at all. But seriously, Si, don’t you have something to do when you’re feeling overwhelmed or on edge? Something that legitimately calms you down?

“I gueff not,” Simon said, his mouth full as he sent crumbs flying everywhere. “Why are you afking?”

Simon didn’t want to know, not really, but he knew Penny wouldn’t stop pestering him until she got what she wanted. She was always trying to help him and once she had it in her mind that Simon was struggling with something she could fix, there would be no stopping her. Simon braced for impact.

“Well, I was hoping maybe you could try some yoga with me?”

Simon choked on his scone, spitting chunks of sweet dough and tart cherries all over the table. He was not expecting that. Oh she had to be kidding. There was no way. This was a joke.

Penny sighed as if she had been expecting him to spit his food all over the table like a 2-year-old.

“Y-yoga?” Simon said, looking at her with his mouth wide open.

Penny rolled her eyes. “Yes, Si, yoga.”

“You're一you're joking, right? You can't be serious.”

“No, I'm serious. Yoga. As in stretching in different positions while controlling your breathing in order to relax and reduce stress and anxiety.”

Simon looked at her as if she had just told him the Watford kitchens would stop serving scones.

“‘Reduce stress and anx一’ what the fuck, Penny?”

His best friend had gone mental.

“Merlin, Simon, calm down. I’m not asking you to pull on fuzzy leg warmers and try to put your legs around your head. This is really not a big deal. It’s not a bad idea an一”

“No it definitely is a bad idea一”

Penny glared at Simon.

“Let me finish! It’s not a bad idea _and_ I genuinely think it could help you.”

No this was _such_ a bad idea.

Simon groaned and put his head down on the table. “Just how do you figure it could help, Penny?”

Simon didn’t want to know. Not in the slightest. He never wanted to be in a place in his life where doing yoga was his only solution. He didn’t think anyone would.

Penny pushed up her cat-eye glasses and she frowned in thought.

“My mom uses it when she’s stressed over grading and her lesson plans and I use it when I’m overwhelmed with homework and assignments. It seriously does help.”

But then Penny sighed and rested her chin on Simon’s shoulder.

”Simon, I know you’re dealing with a lot of pressure right now, what with your magic being so all over the place lately on top of whatever the Mage is putting on you and, well, the situation with _Agatha_ definitely isn’t helping一”

“It’s not a _situation_ , Penny,” Simon growled. “She dumped me. That’s it. End of story. And I’m perfectly capable of handling it, okay? I’m fine.”

Simon wasn’t fine but he didn’t need his best friend thinking that he couldn’t deal with things that he definitely could deal with. Like Agatha breaking up with him. Or his magic always being five seconds of unchecked anger away from exploding out of his skin. Or whatever the Mage expected of him next. He could deal with it and Penny didn’t need to think otherwise.

Penny bumped her head against Simon’s and a few of her purple curls pressed against Simon’s ear.

“I’m sorry, Si; you’re right. She did end things with you and I shouldn’t sugarcoat that because it sucks. But what I’m trying to say is that needing help doesn’t make you any less capable. I’m your best friend and I hate seeing you so weighed down by everything without me at least doing something to try and lessen it. And you’re human, Simon; you don’t have to be fine about all this. Please, I just want to help.”

Simon groaned again but turned his head to look at Penny. They were practically nose-to-nose. “I don’t even have yoga pants or whatever.”

Penny’s eyes brightened and she grinned, sitting up excitedly. “That’s okay! And you don’t even really need ‘yoga pants’; you can just borrow my extra pair of black leggings!”

Simon screwed up his face and looked at Penny uncomfortably.

“Oh grow up. They’ve been washed, I swear, and they’re just plain black leggings. You don’t have to make that face.”

Simon huffed, “Do I need anything else? Because I really don’t have much.”

“No,” Penny said, flipping her curls over her shoulder as she began to stand and gather her breakfast dishes, Simon noticing others do the same all around them. “The only thing I would suggest is doing it on a carpet or a blanket so it’s not as uncomfortable as the floor. After that it’s pretty simple.”

Simon raised his head off the table and looked at her suspiciously. “And how am I supposed to actually do the yoga part?”

“Oh,” Penny said lightly, “I figured we could meet in your room later this afternoon and I could take you through my usual routine and then we could一”

Simon was weak to his best friend. He knew that she only had his best interests in mind, as she always did, so doing it _probably_ wouldn’t kill him. Except, well, in this case, it actually fucking could.

“Bloody hell, Pen, I can’t do this! Not in my room! Not fucking yoga! Do you want me to get eaten in my sleep?”

There was no way in hell he could try yoga in his room. _Yoga_. In actual _leggings_. Morgana’s tits, had he gone completely mental? Oh no, this could not happen.

Penny just looked at Simon with a dead expression. “I doubt I even want to hear what you’re about to say. So please just say it so I can respond by telling you to quit being stupid and then we can move on and see each other later.”

Simon yanked his fingers through his curls and moaned. “Did you forget that I share a _room_ with a blood-sucking vampire一”

“Alleged blood-sucking vampire.”

“一git who hates my guts and wants to kill me?! And you want me to wear leggings and do yoga in the very room we both live in?”

“Do you know what I’m going to say?”

Simon looked at his shoes. “. . . Quit being stupid.”

“Absolutely. Quit being stupid. And while you’re at it, quit being ridiculous, overdramatic, and immature, too.”

Simon pouted. “But Penny,” he began to whine, glancing up at her with wide eyes, “whether he’s a vampire or not一even though he definitely is一he still very much hates me and would love nothing more than to see me dead. How is that ridiculous?”

Penny looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. “Simon Snow, you know I love you very much. But I have told you. Numerous amounts of times. That Basil is not trying to kill you. He has lived in the same room with you for over seven years and as far as I can tell, you. Aren’t. Dead. If he had really wanted to kill you, he would have done it in your sleep years ago.”

Simon stood up and glared at Penny. “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Penny glared right back. She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and poked Simon’s chest with her finger.

“It’s not. And at this point, I don’t really care. Now please listen to me. You agreed to let me help you try yoga which means some part of you wants to give it a chance. I will not allow Basil Pitch to interfere with you actually trying to better your mental and physical health. It is still football season which means Basil has practice every day after classes for the next few weeks. And I know for a fact that you have a free period after your morning classes and that he does not. Therefore, I will see you in your room, during your free period, later today.” Then she kissed Simon’s cheek, spun on her heel, and determinedly walked off to her next class.

At least Simon had tried to put up a fight. He wasn’t just accepting his fate like the yoga-doing coward he was about to become. But really, there was no arguing with Penny once she had made up her mind. It was out of his hands.

And with that, Simon cleared his dishes, grabbed his bag, and stalked off to his first morning class, leaving the sunny, warm Great Hall behind him.

***

“Take a deep breath in . . . grab your ankle with your right arm . . . raise your other arm above your head . . . keep holding your breath for another 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . and 1. Exhale, and relax again,” Penny’s calm voice washed over Simon as he stretched, his breath leaving his chest slowly as tension melted from his limbs.

It was the third afternoon in a row that Penny had been taking Simon through all of her different yoga positions and breathing techniques, and even though Simon was still getting used to the tight, form-fitting leggings, he had to admit that he felt calmer. It was a bit strange really, that he felt this good just because he had been breathing differently and touching his toes more.

“Now do the same thing we just did, but instead grab your ankle with your left arm . . . deep breath . . . other arm above your head, yeah that’s it. . . hold it . . . and exhale.”

Penny was in front of Simon on the carpet between him and Baz’s beds so he could copy her as she moved and stretched. Simon exhaled again and felt a delightful warmth course through him, his muscles tingling as he relaxed back into a sitting position.

Penny crossed her legs and took a drink from her water bottle. “Alright, so last thing for today: take your left leg and twist it around your head一”

Simon looked at Penny in alarm.

She laughed, “Relax, relax; I’m kidding. I don’t even know how to do that. Don’t worry.”

Simon scowled and shoved Penny’s shoulder. She shoved him back.

Penny smiled for a moment but then her expression changed. She gave Simon a concerned look.

“But seriously, Si, do you think that all this has been helping? I know you’re not 100% comfortable with everything we’ve been doing but it seems to me that you’re more relaxed. Your magic, it feels . . . settled, I think. It doesn’t feel so overwhelming.”

Simon sighed, glanced around his room and then down at the carpet, running his hand over it absentmindedly. He needed to be honest with her. She had done so much for him these past couple days, and she deserved to hear how he felt, even though some part of him didn’t want to admit that he had needed the help.

“Yeah, Pen, I think it really has helped. I feel . . . lighter, I guess. I don’t know, just, like there’s less on my mind and under my skin. If that makes sense. I’m still not sold on these leggings, though,” Simon said, scrunching his nose and picking at the stretchy fabric. “But yeah. Thank you, Penny.”

Penny grinned and poked at Simon’s cheek. “I’m glad. And, I’m sorry to say this but, I told you so!”

Oh she was going to get it.

Simon growled and quickly messed up her hair, dragging his hand through her curls as she shrieked.

“Simon,” she shouted. “You areshole! And after I was so _helpful_. How dare you treat me this way?”

Simon laughed but lowered his hands. “Yes, you were very helpful, Pen. Again. Thank you.”

She really had done a lot for him. She needed to know how grateful Simon was.

Penny huffed but she smiled, her eyes glittering. Then she glanced at the watch on her wrist and frowned. “Ah, fuck a nine-toed troll. I’m going to be late to Astronomy. I gotta go, Si.”

Simon stood up with Penny and grabbed her water bottle as she put her shoes back on. Simon walked her to the door and opened it.

“Are you coming back here tomorrow?” Simon asked.

Penny smiled. “Actually, Si, I’ve already taught you just about everything I know. I think you can probably do it on your own now. I can come back if you want but一”

Simon exhaled in relief. He was worried he had been taking away too much of his best friend’s study time. He would be happy to work on it on his own. He could do that.

“Nah, I’m all good, Pen. Really. Thank you so much for everything. And for,” Simon scowled down at his leggings, “these fucking things. I’ll get them back to you soon.”

Penny just shook her head and winked evilly. “No, you keep them. They look better on you anyways.”

Penny then gave her best friend one more smile and started down the tall, spiraling staircase of Mummer’s Tower.

***

Over the next few weeks, Simon took half an hour during his free period and an hour after his classes when Baz was at football practice to do yoga. He would take off his shoes and socks, fight his way into those disastrous black leggings which he now unfortunately owned, and would stretch, move, and breathe until he could feel the crackling, surging energy inside of himself subside.

Simon would stretch his arms behind his head, wrap his fingers around his ankles as his calf muscles burned, and place both of his palms flat on the ground until his shoulders ached. He held his breath for counts of 10, his lungs demanding to let all of the air out as he slowly, slowly exhaled. He focused on the feeling of soreness in his thighs, the tightness in his stomach, the smooth, fluid way he could now bend and twist as the balls of his feet pressed firmly into the soft rug under him.

Simon relished in the feeling of stretching and pushing his muscles past their limits, the overwhelming electricity inside of him being replaced by a deliberate burning, the kind he could handle and control. And the best part, the warmth that ran through his limbs whenever he relaxed from the position he had been holding himself in, was so freeing and calm.

He never thought something as weird and unfamiliar to him as yoga could bring him to a level of peace. And it wasn’t as if yoga fixed everything that was wrong with him because it didn’t: he was still upset and confused about Agatha, anxious about the Mage and the Humdrum, and ultimately pissed off at Baz because when was he not pissed off at Baz. But yoga had given him a place to put things. He could put his sadness and anticipation into the stretch of his arms and legs, he could push his anger into the balls of his feet and the palms of his hands, and he could bury his magic deeper inside of his muscles and bones so it wasn’t just under the surface of his freckled skin.

It had been about a month since Penny had first introduced Simon to yoga and he was still going strong, working on his breathing and stretches anytime Baz wasn’t in the room. Surprisingly, Simon had been doing a pretty good job of keeping his yoga a secret from Baz: stashing his leggings underneath all of his socks and pants, always watching the door just in case Baz came back early, and making sure he was as infuriated with Baz as he normally was, which frankly wasn’t very hard to do.

One day, after all of his classes, Simon returned to his room and quickly shed his shoes and socks, anxious to start stretching as he struggled to put on his leggings. The stretchy fabric stuck to his skin like paint and it truly left little to the imagination. Simon mentally reminded himself to ask Penny where he could get looser leggings.

But they were okay for now. Today had been a stressful day; he had taken a test in Magical History and felt terrible about it. All he wanted to do now was stretch and relax and forget all about his miserable grades.

His magic was particularly jumpy as he spread out his feet, placing his palms flat on the ground next to his toes as he bent. The ache in his legs told him that he was practicing the position correctly, and he more than gladly took in a deep breath, holding it for 10 seconds as he counted in his head. He was facing the window today, the late afternoon sun shining through the glass and warming the room softly as he dug his toes into the rug.

And then the door swung open.

Simon, still bending over in his stretch, looked through the gap in his legs to see an upside-down Baz take one look at the scene before him, make a strange, horribly strangled sound, and briskly turn right back around and slam the door shut behind him.

Simon tried to think about what day it was. Today was the last day of fall quarter. That meant that all fall sports ended today. Including football.

Oops.

**Baz**

Baz leaned against the stone wall just outside of the door to their room, clutching his chest. Baz’s heart had given up completely and was now trying to convince his body to go into cardiac arrest. Maybe he would get lucky and pass out so violently that he would fall all the way down the stairs and die instantly. But Baz wasn’t a lucky man.

He had just walked in on Simon Snow, the Chosen One, the love of his motherfucking life, wearing leggings as he was bent over, _not_ facing Baz. Snow’s arse was in the air, clad in _skintight_ , black leggings, and every curve of his long legs were perfectly accentuated in the fabric.

Oh sweet Merlin and Morgana, Baz really was fucked. And not even in the fun way. He was completely, wholeheartedly, and thoroughly fucked. Baz was never going to have another moment’s peace (not that he really had them in the first place but there were times). He was never getting the sight of Simon’s arse and legs in those blasphemous leggings out of his damned head. He was going to be hot and bothered about this until the _day he died_.

Baz hoped to never see Simon and his leggings ever again. Unless the leggings were on the floor along with Simon’s other various articles of clothing, but that was neither here nor there.

Fucking hell, Baz’s mind was just so good at making terrible situations even worse. What a way to live.

Baz knocked his head against the wall a few times before taking a deep breath and walking back down the winding stairs. He wasn’t going back in there unless he absolutely had to. He just wasn’t. Also, he had no faith in himself whatsoever to not make a fantastic, screwed up mistake. Better safe than sorry, he thought.

**Simon**

Simon had sat down and was waiting for Baz to come back into the room.

Simon figured there was no point in avoiding the subject any longer since Baz had personally seen what was going on. He hadn’t really expected the reaction he had gotten from Baz, but then again he didn’t know what kind of reaction he was expecting in the first place. The whole thing seemed stupid now, because Simon couldn’t even see why Baz _would_ get upset about it, except for the fact that Simon was the one who was doing it. Baz hated everything Simon did because Baz hated Simon. And even though Simon could see Baz killing him over some things, he really didn’t think that yoga was one of them.

So when Baz didn’t come back into the room, Simon resumed his yoga. There wasn’t any reason not to. And Baz could just keep fucking off if it bothered him so much.

***

Over the next week, Simon kept up his yoga routine, and Baz spent less and less time in their room. It got to the point where Baz wasn’t there at all except for very late at night, and all he did then was take extremely long showers. Simon would wake up a number of times to the sound of the shower running and another faint sound underneath that, but he was never able to place it. Every morning Baz’s bed was immaculately made and showed no signs of ever being slept in, and Simon would only see him in brief flashes in the hallway or in the few classes they shared.

Simon figured Baz was pulling a stunt similar to the one he had pulled in 5th year, what with all of the disappearing during the day and only coming back late at night shit.

Simon didn’t care. He really didn't. Baz could make his own decisions and decide what he was going to be bothered by or not. So what if Simon felt like he was all alone in his room now? So what if his days felt a little anticlimactic now that Baz wasn’t there to be cruelly sarcastic as Simon yelled at him, heat and electricity surging around them like a lightning made forest fire? Simon was fine. Better even. No Baz meant no problems. It was fine.

Plus, a benefit of the no Baz situation was that Simon was now able to do yoga at night, after he had (mostly) finished his homework.

Tonight, Simon had no less than a fuckton of homework and assignments that needed to be finished, and by the time he had set down his pencil and blearily looked at the clock, it was late.

He sleepily took off his shoes and socks, stumbled into his leggings which weren’t quite as horrible to him now, and slowly began stretching. He took deep breaths as he straightened out his legs, his fingers pressed into the rug beneath him, and was about to relax into another position when the door opened.

Once again, Simon could see through the gap in his legs that an upside-down Baz was in the doorway. Simon pushed off the ground and stood up, turning around to watch Baz leave, but Baz didn’t move. He just looked at Simon, with those piercing grey eyes, and Simon looked back. Finally, he stepped into the room and closed the door.

Baz’s tie was hanging around his neck and his jacket was a little crumpled. His cheeks were a faint pink, which was odd, and his inky black hair was loose, framing his sharp face in a way that made Simon’s stomach swoop. The only light in the room was from Simon’s bedside lamp, and the many shadows made Baz’s features stand out, all razor lines and hard edges.

Simon’s breath caught.

And then Baz spoke.

**Baz**

“Are you kidding me, Snow? Are you actually fucking kidding me?”

Baz could barely contain himself. His voice was cold but it sounded so exhausted in his ears.

It was too much. Seeing Simon like . . . _that_ again was just too much. Simon was wearing the leggings again. He was standing in the middle of the room in a ratty t-shirt and those leggings looking bright and brave and stupid. His curls were a wreck. His moles were infuriating. It was terrible.

Baz thought he had played it safe by coming into the room this late. Obviously that had backfired spectacularly. Baz had walked through the door tonight instead of turning away because he was too weak to leave. Now he wondered if he was weak enough to do something worse.

“What the fuck is your problem, Baz?” Simon asked, annoyed but not really angry, which was weird. Normally he would have already been boiling by now but he seemed . . . relaxed, almost. Hm.

Baz prayed his voice wouldn’t give him away.

“You, Snow. It’s always you.”

Simon growled.

Baz pretended it didn’t make him want to throw Simon onto his bed and drag that growl right from his lips.

“More specifically, Snow, my problem is that the one _fucking_ time I walk into my _own_ room, after I’ve been so nicely leaving you alone, is the one time you’re here, doing whatever the _fuck_ you have been doing for a week, and ruining my entire life”

Simon narrowed his eyes, those stupid blue eyes, and took a step towards Baz.

“I didn’t _ask_ you to stay away, Baz,” Simon said through gritted teeth. “You made that choice on your own. Don’t blame me because you’re the one who decides to be the world’s biggest prick and gets bothered by every single little fucking thing I do.”

Baz laughed harshly and then took a step closer, too. Because he was angry. And because he couldn’t help it.

“Of course I hate every single little fucking thing you do. You’re so _bothersome_ and thick and . . . stupid. You’re so _stupid_ , Snow. Whatever the hell you’ve been doing for the past week is so stupid. ”

Simon shouted, “You don’t even know what it is I’ve been doing! You’ve been avoiding me all week like a bratty git and being so over dramatic about all of this and一”

“ _Then enlighten me, Snow_ ,” Baz hissed, clenching his fists. “Tell me _exactly_ what you’ve been doing.”

“I’ve been doing fucking _yoga_. Yeah, that’s right, Baz, yoga. Go ahead: rip my bloody head off for trying to lower my stress and anxiety levels because my life is _hard_ ,” Simon spit out, his blue eyes burning.

Yoga. Fucking yoga. So that’s what the gorgeous catastrophe had been up to lately. Baz wanted to make fun of it, wanted to just really rip into Simon for that one, but Baz had the crystal clear image of Simon’s perfect arse in those maddening leggings etched into his own bloody eyelids thanks to the yoga, and he really didn’t want to sound ungrateful. He had been taught better than that.

Baz sneered as cruelly as he possibly could. It was either that or kissing Simon, and one of those options would end his life, so it was probably better to go with the option that wouldn’t. Maybe.

“Lower your stress and anxiety levels’, huh, Snow? Did your Bunce babysitter tell you to say all that? Seems a little advanced for you, to be quite honest.”

 _Merlin, I’m a prick_ , Baz thought.

Simon opened his mouth but nothing came out. His face was twisted and his hands were shaking but he still didn’t say anything.

“Cat got your tongue, Snow? You pitiful disaster, you have no i _dea_ what hard means. You think your life is so bad? Because your precious Mage doesn’t give you enough attention and your perfect girlfriend didn’t love you and you’re pissing in your pants because of the big bad Humdrum?”

_Fucking hell I should just shut up._

Baz kept going.

“But _guess what_? _Bloody yoga isn’t going to fix any of it._ You’re still going to be just as fucked up as一”

Well that did it. Simon lunged towards him and grabbed a fistful of Baz’s shirt, yanking him forward. Perfect. Just the way he wanted.

“ _Why do you fucking care, Baz_?” Simon screamed, his face red as Baz felt Simon’s magic spark and crackle with energy, the air in their room becoming hot and electrified. So much for being relaxed. “Why do you care so much what I do? You hate me so much, Baz. You _hate_ me so why do you even care enough to keep fighting with me?”

Baz just stared at Simon, positively melting from the heat and the lack of distance and how beautiful Simon looked when he was angry.

“Tell me, you fucking prick, _tell me_.”

Baz inhaled through his nose and almost made a noise, smelling the delicious, intoxicating scent of Simon’s hot, sweet blood rushing underneath his skin.

“Tell me, Baz.”

Snow was so close. Baz’s chest was warm from where Simon’s fists were bunched around his shirt. Simon’s lips were open and warm breath was spilling out of them as he yelled and Baz was close enough to count every single one of Simon’s cinnamon colored freckles and moles. His curls looked so soft and his blue eyes were on fire. He was so mad. But his lips were so close. So achingly close.

He would do it, he decided. He would kiss Simon Snow, on the lips, and then wait for him to snap and finally put an end to Baz’s miserable life. It would be worth it, he thought. He was so angry and hot and bright and Baz couldn’t stand it any longer.

Baz looked at Simon’s lips. Simon’s eyes were blistering. Baz leaned in, feeling Simon’s heat wash over him like stepping into a fire, and he was going to kiss him.

He was going to do it.

But then _Simon_ kissed Baz.

**Simon**

Simon shoved his face against Baz’s and their teeth knocked together. Baz’s lips were cold but strangely soft, and Simon never thought that that would be something he would find out.

It was weird, so very weird, because just seconds ago Simon could have sworn that he was about to punch Baz. Or kick him. About to simply do something to Baz to shut him up and wipe that infuriatingly arrogant look off his face, which was nothing the prick didn’t have coming to him.

But this? _K-kissing_ Baz? It was mental. Completely bang-your-head-against-the-bloody-wall mental. Simon had no idea he wanted to die: why _else_ would he set Baz up with the perfect opportunity to kill him?

The only explanation Simon’s addled brain could muster was that Baz’s mouth was right there. It sounded horribly stupid, Simon knew, but it was the best he could come up with. Simon was furious and he was aching to just do something; mess something up. Baz had been staring at Simon’s mouth. Baz was the one who leaned in. Simon had just . . . finished the job.

And, well, Baz wasn’t talking anymore. He wasn’t spitting out all of those angry words and Simon didn’t feel like he was seconds away from going off. Or maybe he still did; he actually didn’t know. Simon didn’t feel like he knew much at all right then, because Baz’s lips were still on his and they were starting to move and he wasn’t dead yet.

Simon felt Baz’s hands press against his chest and try to push Simon away. Simon let go of Baz’s shirt and stepped back, his face on fire and his hands shaking as he looked at the rug on the floor of their room. He couldn’t look at Baz right now.

He hated Baz. Baz hated him. He had just kissed Baz. And Baz was almost going to kiss him back.

He didn’t kiss back, though. Not quite.

Simon wished that he had.

_What was I thinking._

Baz’s quiet voice broke through his mess of muddled thoughts. Simon almost didn’t recognize it.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Simon couldn’t help himself. He looked up and saw Baz just standing there, with his hands in his pockets, and his head down. He wasn’t looking at Simon. His hair fell around his face and Simon couldn’t see his eyes. This was so out of character for Baz and Simon hated it. He never wanted Baz to look like he was now: like he was nervous, like he was scared. That made Simon scared because Baz wasn’t afraid of anything.

Simon wanted Baz to stare him dead in the eyes, wanted the feeling of that infuriating glare on him. Not the floor. Not on anyone else. Just him. He wanted it.

“I don’t know,” Simon whispered. And he really didn’t know. He just knew that it stopped Baz from speaking. And that Simon knew exactly where Baz was when it was happening and he liked that.

Baz laughed, but it wasn’t familiar to Simon. It wasn’t cold or maniacal or matched with a sneer. It was hollow and faded. It sounded like giving up, and Simon didn’t even know what exactly Baz was giving up.

“Of course you don’t.” Baz’s voice was bitter. “The day Simon Snow actually knows something, all hell will freeze over.”

And then suddenly the words just fell out of Simon’s mouth.

“Why did you let me, Baz?”

Simon could see Baz tense up and the room fell into a heavy silence, even with their collective breathing. Simon still didn’t know quite how he had ended up there, standing awkwardly on one side of his room late at night, talking to Baz after having just kissed him, but Simon was there regardless.

And it wasn’t as if he knew the answer. Why _had_ Baz let him do it? Why hadn’t Baz cursed him or hexed him or even killed him as soon as it had happened? At the very least he would have expected Baz to immediately push him off but he hadn’t done that either. There was something that felt different. Something had been knocked down once Simon had put his lips on Baz’s and now the pieces were all over the floor. Simon felt like kicking them away. So he waited for an answer that he wasn’t entirely sure he was going to get, because it was better than trying to put everything back to the way it was.

Baz looked up at Simon and his eyes were desperate and unprotected and Simon didn’t know what to do with that.

“It doesn’t matter.”

But it did matter. It mattered so much because this was the first time Simon felt like something between them was changing and there was no way in hell he was letting that go.

“Bullshit. It does matter. It matters because I know how much you hate me but this doesn’t make any fucking sense so I just need you to tell me why you一”

“It doesn’t matter!” Baz shouted, his fists clenching at his sides as his expression twisted into a look of anger, grey eyes boring into Simon.

This was the Baz Simon knew. And at the same time it wasn’t.

“It doesn’t matter because anything I try to explain to you will just . . . ruin everything. I can’t, Snow, I can’t. It doesn’t matter because anything I say will fuck me over. It doesn’t matter because you won’t believe me when I say that I一I don’t hate you.”

Baz’s voice became much quieter.

“I don’t hate you, Simon Snow, because it’s fucking impossible. I can’t stand to be around you and you drive me up the bloody wall and I can’t ever seem to get you out of my head or out from under my fucking skin. I tried and I can’t.”

Simon’s head was absolutely spinning. Baz didn’t hate him. That made fuck all sense. Simon struggled to grab onto something solid, something true, because it felt like the floor was slipping out from under him.

“But . . . all of those things that you said. Everything you’ve been saying for the past seven years to me. You pushed me down the stairs, you set a chimera on m一”

There was so much pain in Baz’s eyes that Simon didn’t know what to do with himself. He had never seen that much before. It was like he was breaking and Simon didn’t even know why.

“I know,” Baz choked out. “I know. I don’t have an answer for you except that I am a bloody prick and a giant arsehole and that it’s so much easier to pretend to hate you, Simon Snow. It was easier to be terrible to you.”

Simon didn’t say anything. Everything was moving so fast he felt like he was losing it. He had just wanted to stretch before going to bed. It was just yoga. It was just another fight. It was just another storm of cruel words and shouting and heat and Simon didn’t understand why it was so different this time.

“I一I don’t . . . _fuck._ I don’t know what that means, Baz. What are一what are you saying?”

Baz looked back down at the ground again.

But Simon was done with that shit. He could deal with a sarcastic, bitchy prick who knew where to hit you where it really hurt because he had been doing it for seven years straight. But he had no bloody clue what to do with this scared, unsure boy who spoke in a quiet voice and held so much pain in his grey eyes, this boy who was a stranger to him. Simon and Baz weren’t close and they weren’t friends and they never had been, but Baz was no stranger to Simon. It felt that way now, though, so Simon had to put it a stop to it the only way he knew how.

He stopped thinking. His mind went blank. He moved.

And the next thing he knew he had Baz’s sharp chin in between his thumb and his index finger and Baz’s eyes were wide and Baz was backed up against the door. Huh.

“What are you saying, Baz?”

Baz tried to look away but Simon tightened his grip on Baz’s chin so Baz would only have one place to look. Finally.

 “I . . . I don’t think you want to know what I’m saying, Snow.”

Simon moved his face a fraction of an inch closer to Baz’s and Baz shuddered. Huh.

“I want to know,” Simon whispered, because they were so close. And whispering just felt better.

Baz’s hair was hanging around his jawline and Simon suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel it slipping through his fingers. And when Simon’s eyes glanced down, he saw that Baz’s top button was unbuttoned. Simon could see a hint of pale, perfectly unblemished skin underneath his clean shirt and then Simon had the strangest desire to mess it up. To put something there that wouldn’t go away. That would ruin that unmarked skin. He swallowed both urges, terrified and confused by where they came from, but he didn’t dismiss either of them, which was probably a mistake. Fuck, it really was too bad that he didn’t care.

Baz’s stormy grey eyes met his and it looked like he was pleading with Simon. But Simon didn’t know for what. Or maybe he did, he just didn’t want to risk being wrong.

“Snow, I . . .”

“Simon.”

Simon felt his heart start to race as Baz’s eyes widened even more. Why had he said that? Why the fuck would he correct Baz he’s never corrected him before this was insan一

“Call me Simon.”

Merlin, he really was just throwing everything into the fucking wind.

Baz’s eyes darkened. Baz moved his arm forward slightly and his finger brushed against Simon’s legging-clad thigh. “ _Simon_ 一”

Simon gasped.

It was a small noise, almost undetectable, but Baz heard it. Of course he did. Simon would say he didn’t know where that came from but that would be a lie. The combination of Baz’s finger on his leg and Baz saying Simon’s name like that . . . Simon felt warmth pooling in his stomach. It made him want to move closer. It made him want Baz’s lips on his again.

_What the fuck._

Baz looked at Simon from under his black eyelashes and there was something different about his expression. Simon felt himself flush.

Simon scrambled for something to say, anything, to stall so he could try and figure out what the fucking fuck was going on.

“Why . . . why weren’t you here? Why didn’t you come b-back, last time?” He blurted out, cringing as he stumbled over his words.

Fear flashed through Baz’s eyes again and he started to look at the floor nervously again but Simon wasn’t having it. Not now.

Simon dropped his hand and shoved himself forward again (why, why would he do that?) until his legs were pressed firmly between Baz’s.

And then they both trembled at the contact.

Simon had given up at this point. He was currently shoved up against his arch-enemy, whom he had previously shoved up against a _door_ , aching for things he had never wanted from anyone, let alone _Baz Pitch_ , so it was safe to say all logic and reason had been promptly abandoned. All the things he wanted to do just kept coming and coming and they crashed around in his head so loudly that Simon had to realize that they had been there for a lot longer than just today. There was too much to process and think on and Simon didn’t have the bloody fucking energy for it.

He was too desperate for more of whatever was happening. Whatever Baz was allowing to happen. Whatever Baz was going to do.

When Simon finally looked back at Baz, there was something resolute in his expression. He looked nervous, still, but he didn’t look scared. He looked like he had decided something. His mouth slowly morphed into a sly smile and Simon felt a shiver run down his spine.

Baz began to speak softly.

“I couldn’t stand it, Simon. I took one look and I couldn’t bloody handle it.”

Simon swallowed roughly and had to stop himself from pressing himself further against Baz.

“Handle what?”

Baz leaned in until his mouth was almost touching Simon’s ear.

Baz’s voice was an exhale. “You. You in those bloody. _Fucking_. Leggings.”

Simon moaned and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be shocked.

Baz kept talking and Simon felt weak. He felt like he was going to collapse. He felt like he was going to _explode._

“I walked in the door that night and what did I see? You. Bent over. With your leggings stretched over your legs and your arse and I had to _leave_ before I lost it.”

Simon panted as one of Baz’s hands slid up to rest on Simon’s waist and a thought crossed Simon’s mind. It scared the shit out of him but there wasn’t anything else stopping him. He didn’t even want to stop.

Simon took a deep breath, put his hand on top of Baz’s, and then pulled it around until Baz’s hand was resting softly on Simon’s arse.

Simon felt it as Baz froze up against him. When Baz didn’t do anything Simon’s stomach dropped and he felt terrified that he had done something wrong.

Simon started to pull away, and immediately Baz seemed to snap out of it, and he moved his head so he could look at Simon.

Baz’s normally grey eyes were almost all black, his pupils blown wide, and he looked at Simon in a way that no one had ever looked at him before. Like he was everything. Like he was worth it. Like he was wanted.

Baz looked at him with such stark desire that Simon whimpered. He didn’t mean for it to happen but he couldn’t help it.

Baz _wanted_ him.

And Simon wanted him too.

And then everything happened all at once.

**Baz**

Simon surged forward and threw his arms around Baz’s neck, crashing his lips against Baz’s with so much force Baz’s head knocked against the door. Baz pulled Simon against him, his hand firm on the smooth, black fabric that covered Simon’s arse and Simon moaned into Baz’s mouth.

Baz felt himself ascend into heaven. He had to be dead. No gracious god would ever allow his half-dead soul this level of pure ecstasy. No gracious god would ever allow him to have his hand on Simon Snow’s tight arse.

But then one of Simon’s hands tangled in Baz’s hair and as he pulled on it to maneuver Baz’s face closer, Baz let a small moan escape him. This was actually happening. This was real. He was kissing Simon Snow and Simon Snow was kissing him back.

Simon shoved his face forward once Baz had moaned, and Baz was barely accepting that this was real when Simon’s tongue managed to slide inside Baz’s mouth.

And Baz couldn’t take it anymore.

He quickly put both hands on Simon’s arse and turned, this time shoving Simon up against the door as Baz pressed himself between Simon’s legs. Baz took Simon’s face in both hands and kissed him so viciously Simon almost fell down. One of Baz’s hands found Simon’s curls and Baz could feel every part of himself lighting up as years worth of desires and wishes came pouring out of him.

He licked deeply into Simon’s mouth, willing himself not to collapse when Simon moaned again, and finally placed his hand on the waistband of Simon’s leggings, his fingers just barely under the hem of Simon’s shirt.

He broke off from Simon, panting hard and feeling immensely pleased with himself as Simon was breathing with just as much difficulty if not more, and his pupils were so big Baz could barely find the blue.

Baz glanced down at his hand and then up at Simon, waiting for the all clear to keep going.

Simon just nodded, then desperately whined at Baz when he didn’t immediately do anything.

Baz felt his heart attempt to burst out of his bloody chest. Simon Snow was here, against the door, whining for Baz to touch him again. To touch him more.

He almost wanted to revisit his earlier theory of not currently being alive but there was no time. Simon wanted him. _Simon wanted him._

Aleister Crowley, he was living a charmed life.

Baz slowly slid his hand underneath Simon’s ratty t-shirt, feeling nothing but warm, soft skin underneath his fingertips and Simon’s breath became ragged as Baz’s hand made it’s tortuous path up his chest. When Baz’s fingers _accidentally_ brushed over one of Simon’s nipples, Simon reacted so deliciously, so expressively, Baz might have accidentally done it again. And then another couple times after that. _Accidentally_.

Baz pushed Simon’s shirt up a little farther, almost past those hardened, golden nipples, and leaned in with both of his hands splayed against Simon’s chest, beginning to mouth at Simon’s throat and jawline. Baz continued his thorough ministrations until he reached Simon’s collarbones, but found that Simon’s t-shirt was getting in the way. He pressed two quick kisses into that infuriatingly warm and sweet-smelling skin and started to make his way back up, not wanting to push Simon into something he wasn’t ready for. But then Simon growled, low in his throat, and Ban not only heard it but _felt it,_ the vibrations making his lips tremble as Baz kissed softly over Simon’s Adam’s apple. Baz shuddered, and a groan slipped out of his mouth. That growl was going to leave him in fucking _shambles_. It kind of had already.

Baz suddenly was roughly pushed back, stumbling into the middle of the room as he watched in absolute delight as Simon ripped his own shirt off his head and threw it on the floor.

Simon’s eyes were so black and blue, glinting with hunger and desperation, that Baz didn’t know what to do with himself.

Luckily, Simon did.

Simon lunged at Baz, grabbing the tie that hung loose around his neck and pulling on it, hard, until Baz jerked forward so Simon could slam their mouths together, as if they had been apart for centuries. Simon’s hands began violently wrestling with the buttons on Baz’s shirt. Baz tried not to smile as Simon cursed beautifully against his lips, clearly struggling to find the quickest and easiest way to remove Baz’s shirt.

After another few moments of Simon practically manhandling him (not that he minded in the fucking slightest) Baz was beginning to hate his own shirt for delaying him the feeling of Simon’s hands on _him_. And he wanted that. _Now_.

Baz regretfully pulled off from Simon’s demanding lips and neatly tore off his own tie before slapping Simon’s clumsy hands away.

“Stop it, you uncultured animal. You’re going to wrinkle my shirt.”

“Shut the fuck up, you pretentious wanker.”

Simon glared at him, obviously trying to look threatening, but the effect was a bit lost on Baz seeing as Simon’s chest was still heaving and his eyes were still drowning in want.

Baz had never been more turned on in his _life._

Baz took a few steps back and began skillfully unbuttoning his shirt with a speed he didn’t even know he was capable of. He threw it on the floor, mentally reminding himself to hang it up later, before he met Simon’s eyes once more.

Baz’s voice was wrecked. “Come here.”

Simon didn’t have to be asked twice.

He threw himself at Baz, even jumped a little, and Baz caught him easily. He would always catch Simon. He would do anything.

Twin moans escaped both of them as their chests pressed together, and Simon’s tongue instantly slid into Baz’s mouth as soon as they started kissing again. Baz tasted electricity and sunshine and Simon. His gums ached, but he only held Simon tighter. Baz would never hurt him.

Baz desperately raked one of his hands down Simon’s side, the other very busy in Simon’s hair, and soon felt the smooth muscles of Simon’s thigh underneath his fingers. The yoga had paid off. Baz wasn’t even aware how tightly he was gripping Simon’s thigh, his long fingers spread out against the silky black material, until Simon whined and hitched his leg up to Baz’s hip, Baz’s hand adjusting quickly so he could properly hold Simon against him. Baz’s hand found the crook of Simon’s knee and he brought it up a little farther, fitting Simon’s leg snugly against his waist.

Simon gasped loudly as he pressed up against Baz in this new position, and Baz moaned right alongside him.

Oh shit, oh fuck, oh _Merlin._

They were both hard, and due to their new placement, Baz could feel it. Heat was settling deep in his stomach and Baz felt like he was going insane.

Sweet mother of Morgana.

Simon grinded down on Baz and bit his lip, Baz’s mouth silently falling open against Simon’s until a loud groan took him over.

The hand holding up Simon’s leg tightened and pushed it up even farther, causing Simon to gasp and shake in Baz’s arms.

Simon’s mouth tore away from Baz’s as he began to lick and suck feverently at Baz’s throat and jawline, Baz unable to anything except hold him and positively melt under the heat of Simon’s mouth.

Baz shuddered when he felt a warm tongue trace the shell of his ear, and when Simon spoke his voice was so breathless it was borderline pornographic.

“Take me to your bed, Baz.”

Baz moaned and crashed his lips against Simon’s, trying to pour everything he was feeling into the kiss. He wanted Simon to know how badly he needed him. How much Baz was aching for it. How hopelessly he loved him and how hopelessly he was _in_ love with him. How much he was going to pray to the bloody fucking stars later, asking the heavens why they had allowed such a beautiful catastrophe of messy curls and sweet-smelling blood to fall into his arms.

Simon’s warm hands found their way up to Baz’s shoulders and gripped them firmly before he pushed off of the leg he was still standing on and jumped up against Baz. Baz’s hands flew to Simon’s arse as he adjusted to supported Simon’s full weight, and as soon as Baz had securely caught Simon, Simon wrapped his legs tightly around Baz. Simon clutched onto Baz’s shoulders for dear life as Baz began stumbling in what he vaguely thought was the direction of his bed.

It’s a bit difficult to think clearly when the love of your life is trying to kiss the living shit out of you as you try and hold him on top of blindly navigating yourself to your own bloody bed.

Baz supposed he could pull away from Simon and turn his head to see wherever the fuck he was going but that seemed a little too agonizing for his taste.

Instead he clutched Simon to him tighter, thoroughly enjoying the literal handfuls of Simon’s arse that he had possession over, and Simon arched his back gorgeously, pressing himself against Baz’s stomach as he panted and shook.

Baz stumbled again, unable to tear his eyes away from Simon’s trembling form, and right when he was beginning to consider just laying Simon down right there on the floor, Baz’s knees hit something soft.

Thank Merlin, Morgana, and Mesuleth.

Baz promptly dropped Simon onto the bed, a little more graceless than he had intended but it was mostly out of relief for locating the bed.

Simon bounced a little off the mattress and he threw back his head and laughed so sweetly and happily that Baz felt himself die a little bit.

Simon grinned. “Who’s the uncultured animal now? Just throw me on the fucking bed like a sack, you prickhead.”

Baz smiled at that, feeling contentedness and joy swell up inside him. “Anytime.”

Simon rolled his eyes but his grin remained, and Baz was glad for it. Simon just layed there, looking up at Baz. In the light from the only lamp that was on, Simon’s chest looked like it had been painted gold by the sun itself. His tangled curls were spread out on Baz’s pillow in such a comfortable way that Baz felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He was so fucking beautiful and he was laying on Baz’s bed and he was kissing _Baz_ and Baz just couldn’t. He was going to lose it.

But Simon was there.

Simon brushed a lock of Baz’s hair out of his eyes and smiled so brightly, with just a touch of shyness, that Baz felt his heart lodge itself in his throat. He was going to be so careful and gentle and loving with this living and breathing ray of motherfucking sunshine because Simon deserved exactly that and then so much more. He was going to love Simon so hard that it made Baz’s heart beat painfully. He was so in love.

Simon pouted once he realized Baz was just going to stand there like a fucking idiot and stare at him like he was the only thing worth a damn in this world. (He was.)

“Baz, stop being a git and just come _here_ ,” Simon whined, stretching his arms out to grab onto Baz.

Baz didn’t dare say no to a request as adorable as that. Even if he had been called a git.

Baz climbed up onto the bed, swung a leg over Simon, and smoothly sat down on his hips. Simon just reached for him, and Baz blissfully complied.

Baz leaned down, his hands cupping Simon’s face softly, and he stared at Simon with a look that probably told Simon more than Baz was ready to say. But that was okay.

When Simon tilted his head up and closed his eyes, his face flushing a deep shade of red, Baz felt his heart break.

Baz brushed their lips together, gently, carefully, so light that it was barely a kiss. And then Simon growled, obviously not satisfied with the kiss Baz had given him, and brought Baz’s lips crashing down onto his. Baz’s hands scrambled at Simon’s chest for purchase, shuddering and crying out as Simon’s kiss shook him to his very core.

They both moaned and panted and cried into each other’s mouths, hands and lips roaming to places secret and warm and perfect, everything being too much and not enough. Baz had the pleasure of pressing and being pressed into the soft, slightly lumpy mattress, and he couldn't believe in anything except Simon.

Baz’s mother had always told him not to play with fire unless he wanted to be burned, but his mother must have left a part out. She must have left out the part that says sometimes you want nothing more than to burn and burn and burn, especially when it’s at the hands of the world’s blue-eyed savior with a mouth lovelier than the gods'.

Then again, maybe it was better that he had figured it out for himself.

***

When Baz opened his eyes again, he felt happy and fuzzy and his limbs felt nothing but deliciously sore and loose. He was greeted to the sight of Simon fast asleep, breathing softly into Baz's neck, their arms and legs tangled together underneath the blankets.

Baz nuzzled his nose into Simon's curls and Simon made an 'mmm' sound soft in his throat.

Baz died a little bit all over again.

Baz glanced around the room that was beginning to glow with morning light, squeezing Simon in his arms a little tighter, and when he looked down he saw something that made him smile and flush, which was extremely rare for such a cynical, sarcastic vampire like him.

It was Simon's black leggings, on the floor, along with Simon's other various articles of clothing.

**Simon**

After that first time, and then every time after that, Simon continuously found himself waking up in Baz's arms, blissed out of his damn mind, and feeling happier than he ever had in his life.

He almost wanted to tell Penny how he had found something even more therapeutic to him than eating sour cherry scones, but once again Simon doubted she wanted to hear how having mind-blowing sex with his hot-enemy-roommate-turned-boyfriend not only lowered his stress and anxiety levels but made him feel fucking euphoric.

Simon didn't even really have the need for yoga anymore; anytime he was feeling overwhelmed or worried he could just kiss Baz senseless and then let their combined horniness and growing love do the rest until it all went away.

But that didn't mean Simon stopped doing yoga, because that wasn't the case at all.

In fact, he had discovered the most opportune moments for yoga, and more specifically managing to put himself into the most compromising position he could possibly be in as soon as Baz walked through door.

If Baz noticed that Simon only seemed to do yoga right around the time he entered the room every day after classes, Baz never complained.

And of course, he never hesitated to throw those black leggings right back on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhh I hope you liked it! This fic is really important to me so I'm very glad it's finally done. 
> 
> I'm @carryonmylovelies on tumblr if you want to come chat about snowbaz or any of my other crazy wonderful fandoms!! 
> 
> Thank you <3


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